


Johnny Boy's Bones (songfic)

by cilliance



Series: Scriddler Songfic Collection [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Character Death, Character Study, Coming back to life, Death, Gen, Implied Cannibalism, Origin Story, Suicide, not that sad I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 06:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18132140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cilliance/pseuds/cilliance
Summary: “Half torn his grey cloakDon't he look fine and handsome with his arms folded up and his blue eyes all closedAnd he died killin' men -- A most honorable sinBut them mean boys in blueThey done turned him in”





	Johnny Boy's Bones (songfic)

**Author's Note:**

> This is heavily based on the fan-made webcomic "Legacies of the DCAU || Scary Things" (Written by Ted Kendrick and illustrated by James Strecker and Mark Daniel Martinez)   
> This was their take on how Jeffrey Combs's Scarecrow became what he was. When I listened to the song "Johnny Boy's Bones" by Colter Wall, it made me think of this. I wanted to write a similar version without the visuals.
> 
> Please, please, please go read it and their other webcomics!   
> http://www.legaciesdcau.com/issues/special-scarythings/images/index.htm

**Arkham Asylum, 1997**

Jonathan sat in his solitary cell, tired and lonely. He’d been captured yet again after another one of his failed plans. All of them, failures. 

Locked in that cement tomb they called a cell, Jonathan had nothing left to do but dredge up his old, forgotten memories. All of his memories of torment and tragedy and fear. What was left for him to do? Oh, if he’d only had a brain, the answer would be clear. His whole life had been nothing but torture or be tortured, after all. 

Jonathan recalled the time just after his termination from Gotham University. That was the day Scarecrow had gone public -- the day he’d killed his colleagues for what they’d done to him. He also remembered his experimentations on Arkham’s patients. 

Jonathan spat on the ground, suddenly angry. He didn’t belong here! He was not crazy!  _ They  _ were, for thinking that anything could be wrong with  _ him.  _ Jonathan knelt on the ground and silently -- for the first time in decades -- prayed. He prayed for a sign. He prayed for a chance to  _ win  _ for once -- to have a fighting chance against the bullies and the nonbelievers and… Batman. He prayed for the courage to conquer his deepest fears. 

And that sign came. Jon heard the flutter of wings and looked out the window to see a crow perched on the sill. In the crow’s beak, it held a long, thick rope. Jonathan stood and reached a thin arm through the bars to take it from the bird. He looked at the limp rope he held in his hands. Was this really what he had to do? The crow cawed at him. Yes, it was. 

Jonathan considered all of his options. He swore he heard the crow caw his name. This was the answer! This rope was his only way to be free. With desperation, Jonathan tied the rope into a hangman’s noose. 

He stood on the metal frame of his cell bed and found a way to attach the rope to the ceiling. Solemnly, but without hesitation or fear, Jonathan stuck his head through the loop, and let go of his footing. 

Thrashing in the air and clawing at his throat as he choked, in Jonathan’s last moments of lucidity, he watched the crow fly off into the night. It seemed like his life had taken an even more tragic turn. His life flashed before his eyes, and he thought back to all the beatings and all the cuts and scrapes and bruises. He was ready to let go of all of his old fears. He did not fear death, and would embrace it.

__________

 

All he could see was darkness. He thought he had finally died, but it appeared not. 

_ “You’re not finished yet, Jonathan. You have more work to do.”  _

Jonathan was cut from his rope and collapsed onto the ground, coughing and wheezing. 

“What are you doing?!” Jonathan rasped, “Leave me alone! What is this? Who are you?” 

_ “You called out to me in prayer. You asked me for a sign. The crow at the window with the rope? Well, that was one of mine.” _

_ “For as long as I have existed, I have gone by many a name. I am Lord Hades, God of the dead. That much remains the same.”  _

Jonathan cowered in the corner of his cell, a hand still wrapped around his own throat. 

“I don’t deserve your mercy, but thank you for my life. If you could get me out of here, that would also ease my strife.” 

_ “Oh, Jonathan, don’t you realize? You are dead and gone. You’ve committed suicide.”  _

Jonathan looked up to see… himself. Still hanging there from his rope. He felt panic rise in his throat.

_ “But I can help you return to the land of the living. I just ask one thing of you: sell me your soul, Jonathan, and I promise within the hour you will be the  _ scourge  _ of Gotham city with a  _ wealth  _ of newfound power.”  _

Jonathan considered the offer. He answered fast, but all he wanted was freedom, and this deal seemed to be the only way. 

“Okay, Devil. I agree to your terms. My soul is yours to take.” 

_ “Wise choice, Jonathan. You will enjoy your living nightmare when you wake.”  _

Before he left, Hades said,  _ “The deal is done. No turning back.”  _

And just like that, he disappeared, and Jon’s vision faded to black.  

__________

 

**Gotham Cemetery, 1999**

When Jonathan awoke, he clawed himself up from six feet underground. 

He cracked and pried at the roof of his coffin and ripped through roots and wet earth. Years, he’d spent in rot and decay. When he reached the surface, Jonathan gulped in the polluted air. Nothing like Georgia. 

To satisfy his hunger, he ate the first thing that he found. The gravedigger, who’d been wandering the cemetery yard that stormy night. Jonathan attacked the man, wrapping his leathered hands around his throat and tearing into his flesh.

Upon his death, Jonathan stole his hat and tattered overcoat. He embraced his second chance at life. 

But without a soul, all he had was gratitude for his savior. 

Now undead and out of his head, Jonathan was more alive than ever. Ready to ravage Gotham City in his next horrific endeavor. 

No one cared for Jonathan Crane, that much he knew. The professor had now been long deceased, only leaving the Scarecrow.  


End file.
